Chapter 142

Luca’s POV

Aurora Whitlock has been the bane of my existence for three years. I first saw her on her twenty-second birthday. I’d just left a meeting with her father in his study and saw her leaning against the dining table. She had incredibly long legs in tiny shorts, her hair in loose curls cascading down her back to her lower back. Her hazel eyes and perfectly pouty lips were focused on blowing out the candles of a cake her mother had baked. She was whining about her twin brother’s absence and her intention to wait for her father to finish his business before cutting the cake.

Aurora Whitlock was my forbidden sin. For three years, I tried to forget her, but she unknowingly haunted me.

Except tonight, my ghost was real. She was sitting in a ridiculously short dress, her gorgeous legs on display, sipping vodka.

I spotted her immediately from the VIP area upstairs and watched her like a predator—like a creep. She was alone, her eyes scanning the club. Men were clearly interested, but I didn’t care. I told myself I didn’t, even while watching her talk to the bartender, who seemed utterly uninterested in her.

Only my Aurora could walk into a club looking like that and go home alone. My Aurora.

The word hung heavy in my mind as I watched some pathetic blonde man approach her. My hands clenched at my sides.

“We’re here for business, Romano, but you seem more interested in the party downstairs,” one of my colleagues commented, but he shut up when I glared at him.

“Shut up if you want to keep your head,” I hissed in Italian. “Capito?”

His smile vanished. “Sì.”

I returned my gaze to Aurora, watching her flirt with the man now seated before her.

No fucking way. This wasn’t happening. Not in front of me.

It took me six seconds to decide. She was twenty-five, I was thirty-two—seven years older. She’d been the bane of my existence for three years. She was my friend’s daughter. She was forbidden. It would be so wrong.

But I wasn’t watching her flirt with another man.

“Let’s do this another day,” I announced to my colleague, ignoring his opinion.

I didn’t wait for a response, heading downstairs, my eyes fixed on the brown-haired girl. I watched the guy accidentally brush his hand against her leg, then reach for hers.

No. Fucking. Way.

I moved quickly, wrapping my hands around the guy’s neck from behind.

“Fuck off,” I said in a domineering voice. He raised an eyebrow. “Now,” I added, my jaw clenched. The scumbag left faster than a fly swatted away.

Was she really going to let that loser touch her?

I took the empty bar stool beside hers, capturing her gaze.

She might be forbidden, but not tonight. Tonight, she was mine. If she wanted a fuck, she’d get one.